


trouble's what feels good to me

by orphan_account



Series: we're on a quick, sick rampage [14]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bittybones (Undertale), Corporal Punishment, Non-Consensual Spanking, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-09 21:28:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20124121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The oversized bitty currently scarfing pancakes in your kitchen was cruising for a bruising, and you were just about fed up enough to make it happen.





	trouble's what feels good to me

**Author's Note:**

> Dere is a Yandereswap Sans bitty, and was created by ammazolie/boe-someone. This one is pretty mild for me, and was done as a request by a friend.

“More,” the fat little bitty demanded, perched in his tiny high chair on top of the kitchen table. When you acted like you hadn’t heard him and continued eating your own food, he pounded the eating surface and shouted, “MORE RIGHT NOW.”

You lifted your eyes to look at the Dere bitty that you’d had forced upon you by your neighbor, who best you could tell had gone on the run from the law immediately after shoving the box containing the bitty into your arms. You’d never had any problems with Carl, but you were beginning to have a major issue with his spoiled pet, and you didn’t know how much longer you could handle his nasty attitude and constant demands. You’d already served him three bitty-sized plates of pancakes and syrup that morning, and even though his entire face was smeared with the sticky substance and his large ecto-belly protruded tremendously from below the high chair’s eating surface, he acted like he’d never been fed in his life. It couldn’t be healthy for him to be so huge, you reasoned. As it was, two weeks in, Dere could barely squeeze his massive ass into the chair that Carl had left him with. You wouldn’t be too upset if the bitty suddenly exploded one day, but it would be a pain to explain to your AWOL neighbor if he ever returned to collect him.

“You’ve had enough,” you answered wearily, turning back to your serving of eggs. As you lifted a bite to your mouth, you felt something small strike the back of your head. You moved your hand to touch the spot where you’d been hit, and felt… _oh, no, he fucking didn’t_.

Dere was smirking at you from his perch, arms crossed and nose in the air. You took a deep breath, peeled the sticky bitty-sized fork from your hair and calmly placed it on the table’s surface. He deflated slightly when that was your only reaction, and pouted as you finished your own breakfast silently. “I want more pancakes nowwww!” he whined for what felt like the fortieth time that morning. “You’re so mean, Daddy always lets me have more! I hate you! I hope you die!” The bitty followed this by kicking his feet wildly and making the high chair jump. Secretly, you hoped it would tip over, but today wasn’t your lucky day, and the noisy tantrum continued as you washed your plate in the sink. 

By the time you had finished the dishes, Dere had moved on to fighting ineffectively to undo the snaps keeping the chair’s tabletop in place, presumably to get free and cause more trouble. You silently lifted the tabletop yourself, and the bitty flopped out of the chair and onto the human-sized table. He really was humongous, you thought, watching him basically waddle over to the table’s edge, and the skimpy outfits (with no underwear) that he seemed to enjoy wearing were doing absolutely nothing to hide the jiggling of his ecto-flesh.

Dere raised a pointing finger at you, and opened his mouth, likely to shout at you some more. You were not about to allow that. In one sudden movement, you gave him a two-fingered push backward, and watched him fall onto his (extremely well-cushioned) backside. Then you rolled him onto his stomach, flipped up the short skirt that had barely concealed anything before, and pressed the heel of your hand onto his back to stop him from moving. “I’m a lot stronger than you, idiot,” you informed the bitty, flicking him on the top of the head with your other hand. Dere began kicking his feet and sputtering in indignation, but you easily managed to keep him pinned. “I think it’s time we set some rules around here, you tubby little bitch. I have had enough of you insulting me, throwing things, and constantly being a brat. I am about two seconds from releasing you at the dog park around the corner, and then you’ll have bigger problems than how many servings of pancakes you stuff in your face.”

Reasons given, you pulled a six-inch plastic ruler from your back pocket. It was made of very thin plastic, and wiggled easily when you shook it, but still stung plenty when applied to skin. You’d made sure of that, testing it on your arm in the store and earning plenty of strange looks. Dere turned his head toward the sound of your movement, and saw what you were holding from where his cheek was pressed into the table. “I’ll be good, I swear!” he began shrieking, as though you were holding a knife instead. “I won’t eat so much, and I won’t call you names, and—” 

You laughed a little at his sudden rush to make amends, and gently tapped the flat of the ruler against Dere’s ample backside. It wasn’t even hard enough to sting, but the bitty stiffened like you’d punched him. “You can’t talk your way out of this one, Dere. From now on, if you act up, you’re going to get a spanking. You talk back? Ten swats. You steal my stuff? Ten swats. You try to attack me…?” At this, you smiled cruelly. “Let’s make it twenty, and see how you feel afterward.” 

Over Dere’s violent protests, you brought the ruler down on his ass. The ecto-flesh jiggled and bounced like a bowl of jello in an earthquake, and you had to restrain a giggle at the ridiculous display. The bitty himself squawked in indignation, renewing his struggles against your hand. “You can’t hit me! This is bitty abuse! I’m going to tell on you!”

You couldn’t restrain your laughter at that, and followed the first spank up with four more in rapid succession. Where had Dere gotten the idea that “bitty abuse” was even a thing? The lab-grown skeleton pets, equipped with low-grade artificial intelligence as they were, had about the same legal status as a Tamagotchi. Regardless, you’d tested this ruler on your own arm, and it had barely stung. “Oh, zip it, fatty. If you could manage to locomote yourself five feet without getting exhausted, then I might be concerned. As it is…” you pulled the ruler back and gave his wiggling backside a mighty _SMACK_… “You did the crime, and now you get the punishment.”

_Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack._ You tried to evenly distribute the spanks across the enormous surface area of Dere’s buttocks, enjoying his loud squeals when you caught the lower curve, where his thigh began.

“Please _*hic*_ stop, I’ll be good, I pro… _*hic*_ …mise…!” Ah, there were the crocodile tears. He wouldn’t even have bruises on his butt from this encounter, but he was crying like you’d murdered his only friend. “I’m… a bad bitty, but… _waaaaaaaaa!_” Dere had taken his little crying display over the top a little too early, you mused, rationalizing that good acting skills probably weren’t part of his coding. Regardless of whether they were fake or real, though, seeing the spoiled brat’s tears dripping down his face felt like a victory.

“Seventeen… eighteen… nineteen…” Each number was swiftly followed by the accompanying strike. You were actually sort of enjoying this—it was a release for your days of frustration with Dere’s bad attitude, and it was hilarious to see his fat ass bounce. The tears were really just a bonus. Maybe he wouldn’t notice if you didn’t stop at twenty?

Nah, you concluded, he’d eventually do something worthy of another spanking, and then you’d have your chance. You pulled the ruler back from the bitty’s heaving backside and delivered the hardest SMACK you possibly could to the slightly reddened ecto-flesh. Dere wailed out in exaggerated pain, only stopping when you lifted your hand from his back to let him get up… which he apparently couldn’t do under his own steam, instead rolling around on the table like a stuck turtle. You sighed, and lifted the bitty’s not-inconsiderable weight to place him upright. “I hope you’ve learned something from this, but if you haven’t, I’m more than willing to repeat the lesson,” you said sternly.

Dere’s eyes were glassy and glazed, and his face was flushed from his exertions. He almost looked—oh, _god damn it_, you swore mentally as he looked up at you. “I’m a good bitty…” he panted, reaching his hands beneath his protruding belly to fondle his pussy. “Heat… please… spank me _harder_, Mommy…”

Wasn’t that just your fucking luck? You get the world’s most spoiled bitty dumped into your lap, you think you finally have a handle on discipline, and it gets horny when you spank it. “Let me fucking die now,” you murmured, and grabbed a washcloth with which to return Dere to his cage. You wanted nothing to do with the sexual proclivities of the semi-sentient molded gelatin salad that was currently masturbating on your table. “I EAT on that, you nasty little fucker,” you said more loudly, although Dere didn’t seem to hear.

_Carl had better fucking get his shit together soon_, you thought. _I’m giving this another week before I have a mental breakdown and kill the damn thing._

As it was… you’d have to go to the store and get a spray bottle. Punishment, take two.


End file.
